The Humanoid Hexapod
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: All the horrors of the universe cannot match what one twisted Vulcan has in store for the Andorian, Klingon, and Ferengi in his captivity... (Read at your own risk.)


**! WARNING !**

 **This ficlett parodies one of the most demented movies ever made. The Cheshire Cheese will not be held responsible for any collapse of sanity or faith in humanity that this twisted tale may bring upon the reader. Read at your own risk.**

 **I do not own "Star Trek" (a fact for which you'll soon be thanking Q).**

* * *

The Vulcan scientist gazed at the scene below him, with eyes that came dangerously close to an emotion. Standing on the red cliff of a massive asteroid in Klingon space, his gaze was fixed on a herd of wild Targs-a particularly large breed that had gotten loose and bred on this asteroid some centuries ago. The scientist-former scientist, to be more precise-turned his bulbous eyes to the digital drawing he'd constructed on his PADD. Three Targs standing in a row, in perfect order, as one elongated being, sharing one digestive tract. The biological simplicity of it was sublime. It was so orderly, so logical. The sheer magnificence of its logic almost brought a tear to his Vulcan eye. And so close in time.

His green blood surged with anticipation. His mission's climax was near, he could feel it. His experiment would begin any day now, and once it did he would not halt until it was complete.

Logic demanded it.

* * *

" _Will you hurry up back there?_ I've been starving for the last two hours!"

The Ferengi's nasally voice was like claws slicing through Xismot's antennae. The Andorian sighed irritably, his antennae curling. He called over his blue shoulder, "We left the conference _less_ than _half_ an hour ago!"

"And I was starving all through it!" Zek, the Ferengi Grand Nagus, slammed his staff against the floor for emphasis.

From the helm, Captain Nu'Daq growled, "You Ferengi are as weak as you are ill mannered. Why I once survived a three week trek across space with that pompous Captain Picard and a Carddassian wench, with _no_ food or watch for the entire-"

"Probably because you ate your companions," Zek sneered, eyeing up the overweight Klingon's round form.

Nu'Daq swore at the Grand Negus in Klingon.

For a decently sized Klingon battle ship, the _Maht-H'a_ felt surprisingly cramped, despite currently carrying only three persons. The Klingon, Andorian, and Ferengi ambassadors had barely tolerated each other at the council meeting, and none of them were keen on sharing quarters for a week.

The Klingon and Fernegi continued to argue, while the Andorian finished preparing lunch. Xismot finally emerged from the back room. "Fret not children, your blue nanny is here to feed you. Andorian eggs." Xismot carelessly chucked the plates of scrambled orange eggs onto Nu'Daq's lap and the consol Zek was sitting next to.

"'Andorian eggs,'" the Klingon snorted. "Isn't that cannibalism to you insects?"

Xismot rolled his eyes.

"These can't be Andorian eggs," Zek muttered, poking at the neon-orange blob on his plate. "Shouldn't they be blue?"

Xismot leaned over to address the short Ferengi. "Andorian _styled_ eggs. For Q's sake, you don't drink your own species' milk, do you think Andorians would eat our own eggs?"

"Your great-grandfather might," Nu'Daq grunted.

"General Shran was a hero of the Andorian Imperial Guard," Xismot snapped. "He was friends with none other than Captain Johnathan Archer!"

Zek was laughing. "That hew-mon whose pet sloth had nicer ears than he did?"

"Do you think just anyone could tolerate being friends with Captain Jonathan Archer?" Xismot retorted.

"Hey!" the Grand Negus shouted, a piercing sound in their current confinement. "How about something to drink?"

"Are you completely incapable of feeding yourself?" Xismot snapped back. "Or speaking in an indoor voice?"

"Yes! On Ferenginar, the Grand Nagus never serves himself like a common Ferengi!"

Nu'Daq grunted. "Now more than ever, I realize what lies that ancient alien recording spoke. 'All Humanoids are related,'" the Klingon spat on the ground near the Negus. "Imagine it! Klingon, Ferengi and Andorian, all one species, as if we're all simply components of one form of life. Putrid!"

Zek replied, "We agree on _something_ then!"

The conversation was interrupted by a soft alarm from the helm.

"What is it?" Xismot craned his blue neck over Nu'Daq's shoulder.

"A large asteroid," the Klingon reported. "Pulling us into its gravitational pull!"

Behind him, Zek, mimicked, "'Pulling us into its gravitational pull!' Excellent deduction Capt-"

"I've never seen anything like it," the baffled Klingon bolted up from his chair. "On-screen."

The Klingon and Andorian gazed at the asteroid on the small screen before them, rapidly approaching.

"A Class-M atmosphere," Xismot observed.

Nu'Daq added, "This is no force of nature. Someone on that asteroid is using artificial means to override my ship's ability to go to warp!"

"Hey!" Zek squealed from behind them. "I can't see!" As the Klingon and Andorian continued to assess the situation, ignoring him, Zek's ranting increased in speed and volume. "Do either of you realize who I am? _I am the Grand Nagus of Ferenginar!_ That means I come _first_! _Front_ of the line! First car in the train! I will _not_ be treated as the caboose, and I certainly won't spend the rest of this journey starting at a Klingon's ass! I sometimes wonder, do the behinds below your waist have ridges like the ones on your forehead?"

Finally turning around, Nu'Daq said simply to Zek, "I'll have you know, Ferengi rodent, that my ass cheeks would crush your putrid little scull, which resembles a humanoid's buttox infinitely more than mine."

"Hrph! At least mine is smooth and perfect." Zek ran an orange hand along his forehead.

"Will you both shut up try and help me get us out of here?" Xismot exclaimed, rushing to a wall panel. "I've known you both less than two days and I already can't stand either of you! I swear, everywhere I go, I end up being followed by a chain of imbeciles. I'll try enhancing our shields, maybe that will cut the gravitational-"

"I've already tried that!" Nu'Daq roared. Breathing heavily, he said evenly, "Our only option is to prepare for battle."

"You're enjoying this," Zek accused.

This time the Klingon had no retort, and only smiled. "Guilty as charged Ferengi. Down there lies my destiny, I can feel it." He spoke through bared teeth, excitement creeping into his voice. "A great adventure awaits, and I am destined to be right in the middle of that adventure when it happens! Directly in the center of it all! I don't expect a Ferengi to understand such things of course. And what of you Andorian? Would you dare attempt half the dangers a Klingon braves in a single week?"

Xismot, having finally given up on his attempt to enhance their shields, pounded a blue fist against the wall. "I will brave any amount of pain, suffering, and humiliation, if it results in both your mouths being fused shut!"

"Look!" Zek pointed a shaking staff at the view screen, where the asteroid was spinning towards them at a frightening pace. "It's too late!"

"No it's not, maybe your lips will be melted shut in the crash," Xismoth managed to snark, just before they crashed into the asteroid.

* * *

Xismot awoke relieved to find the three of them alive, and disappointed to hear both the Klingon and Ferengi's irritating voices arguing over nothing once again. Pushing himself up, he saw the shuttle had crashed on a sandy environment with sparse vegetation. Xismot lay near the ship's opened door. Nu'Daq and Zek were already outside, yelling at each other. Xismot pushed himself up and walked over to them.

"What did I miss?" the Andorian rubbed his throbbing blue head.

Zek replied, "You missed this...dung-eating...monstrosity...throw me right out the doorway! Me! The Grand Nagus!"

Nu'Daq exclaimed, largely to himself, "To think that imbecile Picard could actually believe I'm related to either of you!"

"Status," Xismot sighed.

Nu'Daq reported, "We're stranded on this asteroid, with not shuttle and no signal!"

"We're not alone though," Xismot realized. "You said yourself that whatever pulled us here was no accident. _Someone_ 's on this asteroid. I suggest we find them."

Zek was understandably hesitant about this. "If they crashed us here, who's to say they have our best intentions in mind? This could be a Dominion Outpost, or a trap by the Borg!"

"It could also be a Latinum dealer looking to sell," Xismot suggested.

"I'll mutilate him either way," Nu'Daq declared, "As soon as he tells us how to get off of this rock!"

The trek was surprisingly short, considering this asteroid was large enough to have an atmosphere. By all accounts, it was an outrageous coincidence that Federation ships and shuttles so often crashed at the exact spot on planetoids where the one intelligent life form dwelled. The trio counted themselves fortunate to find the same stroke of luck. In just a few hours, they finally discovered a small structure near a canyon, almost like somene's strange asteroid summer home.

"Remember Nu'Daq," Xismot began.

"I know," the Klingon assured him. "No chopping up our host until after he tells us how to get off this asteroid."

Xismot closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing to even look back at the Klingon, and pressed the doorbell.

The door was answered by a tall, gaunt Vulcan, who regarded them with enormous, expressionless eyes. When he spoke, his voice was distant and low, and seemed to emphasize all the wrong syllables. "...Hello."

"Greetings," Xismot bowed cordially. "I am Xismot, Andorian Ambassador to Qo'Nos. This is Captain Nu'Daq of the Klingon Defense Force, and Zek, Grand Nagus of the Ferengi."

The Vulcan stared at them, unblinking. He was dressed in a long white lab coat, and the dark rings framing his enormous eyes suggested that he was suffering from either insomnia or insanity or both.

"We crashed." Xismot added.

After many awkward seconds, the Vulcan asked, "...are...you alone?"

"I wish!" Zek shouted.

"There is no one but us three," Nu'Daq confirmed.

The Vulcan's eyes darted to the Klingon. "You have been through much, My Lady. Come inside."

"'My Lady?'" Nu'Daq's eyes flared. "You'll pay for that insult, you green-blooded-"

Xismot stopped the Klingon's hand, which was reaching for the dagger on his belt.

"I mean no offense." The Vulcan stated. "I only find Klingon women to be...such...lovely creatures...Your hair is second to none...It's a shame things must play out as they shall...but logic...demands it."

"And I demand some answers!" Nu'Daq reluctantly sheathed his three-bladed dagger, as the trio entered the Vulcan's house.

"You have a lovely home," Xismot complimented, gazing around the large, almost-empty-looking living room, the only decorations being a few potted plants and a rather demented looking painting of a two-headed tribble. "Do you live here with your wife?"

"Do you make her wear clothes?" Zek asked suspiciously.

"I don't like...human beings." the Vulcan replied.

The trio exchanged a glance.

"We're not fans of the Hew-Mons either," Zek said. "They're the ugliest race in the galaxy."

Their host had already lost interest in the conversation, and was pouring them all a thick dark blue drink. "This...is Vulcan...coffee...I hope you will like it. Forgive me, I must...urinate."

The Vulcan turned and headed for the house's lavatory.

As soon as he was gone, Zek leaned over and whispered to the other two, "Did either of you notice anything strange about that Vulcan?"

"Such as?" Xismot blew on his coffee, and took a long, savoring sip.

"Not once, from the moment he opened his mouth, did the word 'illogical' escape his lips!" Zek loudly slurped his coffee. "That's inconceivable for a Vulcan interacting with non-Vulcans!"

Nu'Daq downed his entire cup in one gulp, and growled, "That was the worst coffee I've ever tasted! And I was on the Enterprise!"

Zek blinked, swaying. "I feel like...a hord of tribbles are eating through my brain like grain...what was in this?" he glanced at his empty cup.

"That...would be the Romulan poison," the Vulcan answered, now standing in the doorway.

Xismot blinked in disbelief, fighting to stay conscious. "Why...why would you tell you victims that?"

"I don't want you to think...I don't know how to make coffee."

* * *

The trio awoke in a laboratory straight out of a horror story.

Each was trapped in a cylindrical forcefield. Nu'Daq pressed against his forcefield, roaring angrily through his teeth. Zek pounded against his forcefield, and yelped when it stung his hand. Xismot eyed his surroundings, and timidly touched the forcefield with one antenna, which instantly snapped back as if stung.

The Vulcan slowly entered the lab, and the three prisoners commenced the yelling and swearing, demanding to know what he was doing to them and why. The Vulcan ignored them, and calmly turned on a holo-projector, which depicted simplistic black shadows of three humanoid life forms, down on all fours, in a row, their digestive tracts highlighted. Each of the figures was also labeled with a letter from Earth's Greek alphabet- Alpha, Beta, and Omega.

The Vulcan gazed at the Klingon. "Ladies," he turned to Zek and Xismot, "Gentle-lads... I present... the next step in Humanoid evolution... the Humanoid Hexapod."

The three prisoners reacted as one would expect.

Over their screams and protests of disgust and horror, the Vulcan said evenly, "I will accomplish this...miracle...with transporter technology. Transporters have a long history of fusing individuals together unintentionally...but now I...Dr. Ret'Ieh, have unlocked the secret...to the humanoid hexapod!"

"Y _ou need help_!" Xismot screamed. "You're a _very_ sick man!"

"You will help each other," the Vulcan corrected. "Food will be ingested by Alpha," he was using the Grand Nagus's staff to point to each figure in the horrifying display. "And will then pass to Beta," as he spoke, Xismot passed out, slumping to the floor in his forcefield cage, "and onward to Omega..."

"You're gross." Zek said, wrinkling his nose.

"I am Vul-"

The sick scientist was interrupted by the electric screech of Nu'Daq breaking through his forcefield, and barreling into the Vulcan, knocking him to the floor. The combination of Klingon strength and extra weight had made it possible for the captain to finally break through the force-field.

The Klingon, with another roar, punched the consol next to Xismot's prison, knocking out his forcefield. The Andorian was still passed out from the Vulcan's sickening speech. The Klingon seized the Andorian's antenna with both hands, and began to drag his comrade out of the lab.

"Hey!" Zek pounded on his forcefield. "Aren't you forgetting somebody?"

Ignoring him, the Klingon dragged Xismot through the house. They were underground, in some kind of large basement. Finding his way to a staircase, the Klingon dragged the unconscious Andorian up the stairs, still by the antennae. He kicked opened the door, shattering the lock, and hauled Xismot towards a large window. Nu'Daq wasn't sure what kind of glass the window was made of, but he was sure it wouldn't be difficult for a Klingon to break.

A pillar of blue light shimmered on the other side of the window. A transporter beam. And there stood the mad Vulcan, with a phaser.

Nu'Daq roared hoarsely, "You sick son of a p'taque! I will not rest until you have drowned in your own blood..."

Over his shouts, the Vulcan raised his phaser, set to stun, and said said threateningly, "You will be the middle."

* * *

Xismot's behind was killing him. It felt like someone had shoved a miniature of the Rocky Mountains up his blue ass. His antennae cringing in pain, he opened his eyes...

...and awoke to Hell.

The trio was in the Vulcan scientist's back yard, on the asteroid. They were on all fours. And it wasn't a miniature mountain range attached to Xismot's blue bum; it was Captain Nu'Daq's head. The Klingon's muffled roars echoed through Xismot's bunghole.

The mad Vulcan stood before them, his white lab coat now accessorized by black leather gloves, small round sunglasses, a Nazi cap, and knee-high black leather boots. In one hand, the deranged doctor still held the Grand Negus's gold-headed Ferengi staff.

Xismot could tell Nu'Daq was attempting to swear and declare how he'd kill the Vulcan, because he could feel the Klingon's sharp teeth moving around his already agonized rear end.

"Will you cut that out?" Xismot screamed over his shoulder. "Unless you wanna be swallowing Andorian blood!"

"The time for swallowing...is neigh..." the insane Vulcan said.

"You sick, demented, pointy-eared, hobgoblin!" Xismot tried to lunge at the mad doctor, but was held back by the weight of the two people behind him.

Zek's muffled complaints rang out from the back of the "Humanoid Hexapod." The Grand Nagus was, indeed, the caboose. But from the Ferengi's frantic hand gestures and facial expression, it was clear what he was asking.

"Because," the Vulcan replied, his wide crazy eyes unmoving, "...logic demands it." He raised the Negus's staff, and declared, "And now, we walk. Right first, then left."

"We'll never obey you, you pointy-eared perv!" Xismot declared, while the Klingon behind him gave the Vulcan a New York style middle-finger.

Unblinking, the Vulcan delivered a swift blow with the staff, somehow managing to strike Zek's ears, Nu'Daq's forehead (the tip that was visible outside of the Andorian's backside), and Xismot's antennae. Zek let out a muffled howl of pain, and shoved the rest of the Hexapod forward.

Soon, humiliatingly, all three were marching on all fours, as the deranged Vulcan commanded. For the next 24 hours, the trio did nothing but learn and perform twelve-legged circus tricks for their new master.

"I will create a master race," the Vulcan declared, his eyes lighting up with joy as his creation marched, scurried, reared, and did the Macarana. "All the conflicts of the galaxy, all the violence, disorder, bigotry, chaos, will be fused into perfect, logical order. Can a Klingon, Ferengi, and Andorian hate each other, when they are dependent on each other for survival?"

Nu'Daq finally managed to shout an audible sentence through Xismot's ass. " _How in the fucking name of Kahless's nut-sack are you going to fuse the entire galaxy into a hexapod_?"

" _Ow, fuck!_ " Xismot snapped at his companion.

"Very carefully," the Vulcan replied to the Klingon.

Xismot yelled, exasperated, "You couldn't at least file down the Klingon's teeth before shoving them up my wormhole?"

"That...would not be logical."

Xismot was exhausted from crawling and balancing. He was tired. He wanted a shower. He had to go to the bathroom.

Wait...

 _Oh god..._

"Shit!" Xismot cried out. "I have to shit!"

Nu'Daq's eyes bulged with horror, and he shook his head.

"Yes!" The Vulcan exclaimed. "The time has come to feed your comrades, Andorian!"

"NO!" Xismot protested.

"They are dependent on you Andorian," the Vulcan threatened. "Don't you think they are famished?"

Behind Xismot, Nu'Daq and Zek shook their heads frantically.

"Do you think they would rather starve?"

The Klingon and Ferengi nodded fiercely.

The Vulcan pointed to Captain Nu'Daq. "That beautiful Klingon maiden will die if you do not supply her with nutrients! Feed her now, I say!"

"Fuck no." Xismot said simply.

"Feed her!" The Vulcan raised his leather-gloved fists dramatically, his eyes bulging madly. " _FEEEEEED HEEEEEER!_ " He danced around the humanoid hexapod, gloved fists raised, and bellowed over and over, " _FEEED HER! FEEEEEEEEEEEED HEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!_ "

The Vulcan was interrupted by the distant sound of his doorbell from the front of the house.

Quietly, gazing at his creation, the scientist lamented, "Balls." Straightening his lab coat, he said, "I must answer the door. Your training session is completed, for the present."

He locked the fused trio in a forcefeild cage, normally used to contain wild animals, and left to go answer the shrilling doorbell.

Trapped in the dark lab, with no hope of any kind left, the three prisoners eventually fell silent.

Not knowing what else to do, Xismot reached behind him and took Nu'Daq's hand.

"Captain Nu'Daq," Xismot said quietly, "No Klingon has ever braved such horror, such pain, such humiliation, and such putricidy, as you. I'm convinced you'll have a seat right next to Kahless in the afterlife."

Inside his blue ass, the Klingon was smiling, a tear rolling down his face. He replied with a muffled compliment about how he'd never bitten a tougher ass in the galaxy, and his newfound admiration for Andorians. With is free hand, the Klingon took the Ferengi's, and gave a long-winded, muffled speech about the Grand Treasury the Ferengi would awaken in when their torment was over. Zek began to reply, but was cut off when Nu'Daq passed gas in his mouth.

Xismot sighed. "Who are we kidding, this is disgusting."

Suddenly, the Andorian's antennae shot straight up, and his eyes bulged.

Behind him, his comrades muffled inquisitively.

"Oh god...it's not a shit after all, I, I think I'm laying an egg!...Please forgive me..."

* * *

At the door was a human Starfleet captain, accompanied by a Gorn lieutenant. The human had a handsomeness that left both Captain Kirk and Commander Riker in the dust, hard-toned muscles visible under his partially unbuttoned Starfleet captain's uniform, adorned with soft, curly brown chest hair. The human also had an intelligence the Vulcan could sense with his telepathy, a genius that made him quite jealous. The captain regarded him with sparkling brown eyes under wavy brunette hair.

Deciding to sound as normal as possible, the Vulcan greeted slowly, "Hhhhhelloooooo."

"Dr. Ret'Ieh," the captain greeted, in a voice like music. "I'm Captain Wesley Crusher of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and this is my first officer Lt...er..."

His comrade grunted his name in Gorn, which most Humanoids wouldn't have been able to pronounce.

Captain Crusher cleared his throat. "Anyway. Doctor, it seems people have been going missing from this region of space. All missing vessels have sent out distress calls involving a force on an asteroid pulling them in. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Dr. Ret'Ieh gazed out at the rocky desert, littered with the remains of crashed shuttles and one Galaxy Class starship disc poking halfway out of the sand. "Nothing of the sort."

Captain Crusher nodded cordially. "Well, sorry to bother you."

The Vulcan slowly slinked back into his house, as he began to pull his door shut...

Then, suddenly, the captain whirled around and shot the Vulcan in the chest!

Dr. Ret'Ieh stumbled back, drawing his own weapon.

"Hands up where I can see them!" Captain Crusher bellowed. "You're under arrest!"

The Gorn lunged at the Vulcan. Ret'Ieh fired, but missed the reptile. For a moment the Gorn and Vulcan struggled, until Ret'Ieh knocked the creature out with the Vulcan neck pinch. From there, it was a shoot-out between the deranged mad scientist and the handsome, heroic Captain Wesley Crusher.

Stories below, in its prison, the Humanoid Hexapod was arguing amongst itself yet again.

"I am _not_ going to kill myself," Xismot said sternly over Nu'Daq's muffled protests. "Even if this is a more grave dishonor than any sentient life form could ever anticipate." He allowed his two comrades more muffled arguing, until a sound from above caught his attention. His antennae perking, Xismot hissed "Shhh! ...we may be about to be rescued!"

Several phaser blasts echoed from above. And then, Dr. Ret'Ieh's dead body came tumbling down the staircase. A human Starfleet Captain came sprinting down after, with a phaser drawn.

"Fret not you unfortunate bastards," the human said, puffing his perfect chest out heroically. "I'm Captain Wesley Crusher of the Enterprise, and I've come to rescue you all." Brushing his knuckles off on his uniform, he added smugly, "I assume thanks are in order from all your governments."

The Andorian, the Klingon, and the Ferengi stared at their savior. Then the three exchanged a glance. Xismot reached behind and drew the Klingon dagger from Nu'Daq's belt. Holding the knife in front of his own throat, the Andorian declared to Wesley, "Are you God?"

Wesley stammered, "B-but, but I'm here to sa-"

" _LIEUTENANT CRUSHER!"_

The low, commanding, British voice of Frenchman Jean-Luc Picard stopped Wesley in his tracks.

Gaping at his captain, Wesley stammered, "C-computer, freeze program."

The humanoid hexapod froze, just before the climactic suicide scene.

"...What the _hell_ is all this?" Picard demanded, his eyes sweeping the grotesque scene.

Wesley slowly looked from Picard, back to the display before them, and replied meekly but professionally, "Literature, Captain."

Picard took a deep breath, and whispered, "Lieutenant, you're hereby demoted to the rank of crewman-but I'll see to it that you keep your red uniform. And your holodeck privileges are hereby revoked for the remainder of your likely very short life." Wesley stood in shock, until Picard barked, "GET OUT!"

With a silent whimper, Wesley scampered out of the holodeck.

Picard gave a final passing glance of disgust at the humanoid hexapod. "Computer end program." As the laboratory, dead Vulcan, and demented experiment vanished into the grid of the holodeck, Picard muttered, "Who the fuck wrote this?"

* * *

 **A/N: If you didn't already figure it out, this is a parody of the very demented movie "The Human Centipede," by Director Tom Six. I've never seen the move in full, but Phelous's review was more than enough for me.**

 **Nu'Daq is a canon character from the TNG episode "the Chase," while Zek the Grand Negus is a recurring character from "Deep Space Nine." Xismot is an original character, named after the twisted mind that made "the Human Centipede" and its sequels; but his grandfather Shran is a canon character from "Enterprise."**

 **If you're morbidly curious about "Human Centipede" but don't want to see it, I recommend the "30 Second Bunny" version online.**


End file.
